No me without you
by fanficsofclare
Summary: A sad angsty Drabble about John breaking up with Sherlock. I'm so sorry for writing this. I made myself cry. Character death. Drug use.


Post-Johnlock.  
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I can't do this anymore. I just can't. You're hurting me. You're hurting yourself. I don't want to force you to choose between the drugs or me, so I'll make the decision for you. I'm leaving. I'm sorry, I'll always love you." Johns words appeared in the pitch black, bright and impossible to ignore. It tore at him. Sherlock, the one and only, cleverest man alive, is broken. He'd never been broken before. He thought he had been once, a long time ago, but nothing compares to this.  
He woke up, not remembering falling asleep, although sleep was nicer than being awake. Something Sherlock never used to think.  
There's two texts from Mycroft and a missed call from Lestrade but no John. Sherlock desperately tries to slip back to the darkness, letting the sleep consume him again, if only for a while longer.  
He dreams of John. Always John. Johns goodbye. The short kiss that was cut short. The forever empty feeling.  
John. Sherlock would have picked John. If he knew how, if he could. The short rush of adrenalin was nothing compared to John. Nothing but a stupid addiction. Now look where it got him.  
He wishes, every day, for John to come back to him. For John to miss him as Sherlock misses him. He doesn't know where John is. He just left, without a place to stay.  
Maybe John's dead.  
Maybe Sherlock is dead. Maybe this is hell. Not surprised if it was. Feels like hell.  
John said he would always love Sherlock. Sherlock wanders if he still does. Sherlock still loves John. How could he not? John was Sherlocks only cure, the only thing that could save him from the needle.  
But now that needle is his best friend, like old times. They say boyfriends come and go but friendship is forever. Maybe that's how it's meant to be. Sherlock and his needle, John and his happiness.  
Sherlock feels the tears drip on his skin before he realises he's crying. In the shower. The water's not running. He just sitting there, naked, in the glass container, crying. It's kind of nice. It's cold and silent. No interruptions. No phone buzzing at every second. No Mycroft. No Lestrade. It's peaceful but won't last, nothing ever does.  
Sherlock doesn't know how long he sits there, but its dark when he gets out. He lies down in Johns bed, staring at his phone. Johns contact is open. Sherlock should text him. Or call him, more personal.  
His phone rings and without looking at the caller ID, Sherlock answers.  
"Finally, I need to you come down for a case. Where have you be-" Sherlock hangs up. Lestrade. Not important. He watches Johns contact again. Pretends John is with him. If he pretends, he doesn't feel as sad.  
He presses it. He puts the phone to his ear.  
"The number you have dialled can not be recognised, please hang up and try again." Sherlock threw his phone down. John had changed his number. He was going out of his way to hurt Sherlock.  
If Sherlock could build a time machine, he would travel back in time a shoot Moriarty. That would stop him giving the drugs to Sherlock, making him relapse. Sherlock had been four years clean when Moriarty came along and ruined everything. John had found Sherlock in a pile of his own piss and vomit. Sherlock promised John it was a one time thing but Moriarty was back for more. John left and Sherlock hated himself.  
Sherlocks phone buzzed. I've got something for you -JM  
Bring it to me -SH  
There's no point stopping now, now that John is gone, Sherlock doesn't see the point in living. So he takes more drugs. Maybe he wants to die. Moriarty arrives. Looks so fucking pleased with himself. He did this. Drove John away. Injects Sherlock, because Sherlock is weak. Moriarty kisses Sherlock but he doesn't respond, so he leaves him. To have his brief high. To crash and burn to an even lower level.  
Lestrade texts him. 'John asked how you're doing, what do I say?'  
Say nothing. John wouldn't want to know. He would hate to see what had become of his Sherlock.  
'I may not have your powers of deduction, but I know he misses you a lot' Lestrade texts after half an hour. Then why did he leave Sherlock? If John misses Sherlock much, why doesn't he come back?  
'He still loves you.' Then why isn't John here? Sherlock falls asleep thinking of John.  
Blocked Number. Sherlock answers, it's probably Moriarty with more drugs.  
"Hello, Sherlock. It's me." John.  
"Hello." Sherlock said trying to hold back the lump in his throat. He was crying again. Why was he crying?  
" I wanted to check on you. Make sure you're still alive." John said.  
Not for much longer, Sherlock hoped.  
"When did you eat last?"  
" The day you left."  
"Go eat something, please." John pleaded.  
"I don't want to."  
"I don't want you to die, Sherlock."  
"Then why did you leave?" Hang up. Don't want to know the answer.  
Then next time Moriarty comes, he stays. Gives himself an injection and sits next to Sherlock on the bed  
"Johns bed. You sentimental cocksucker" Moriarty laughs, laughing at Sherlock. Laughing at how easy it is to crumble Sherlock.  
Sherlock falls asleep thinking of John but kissing Moriarty . Wakes up alone and in pain.  
It's been three weeks since John left. Sherlock is hungry. But he doesn't eat, won't, cant, doesn't want to. Eating is pointless. Just a life process. He has no energy to move, barely enough energy to breathe. He goes back to sleep. Hopefully for the last time.  
X  
There's a bang. Johns gun falls from his hands with a clatter as if hits the hospital ground. John falls after it, collapsing across Sherlock. The hospital staff rush in, but its too late. They couldn't save Sherlock and so they couldn't save John. John should never have left Sherlock because Sherlock needed him to survive. And John needs Sherlock to survive. So, it made sense to follow Sherlock.  
And in death, can they be untied.


End file.
